The Unselected Journals of Emma M. Lion: Vol. 5

by Beth Brower

I do not ask a great deal of life. Two walks a day, a library, and the occasional fortifying tea. But life seems to amuse itself at my expense, and I’ve had a rather trying go of it as of late.

The memory came to mind just now. And something I’ve not felt for longer than I care to admit began to take shape. That, come sunshine or cloud, I was going to be fine. More than fine. In place, and strong, and anchored in. Tonight, Islington became a stake. And Pierce. And Mary. And Saffronia. And Hawkes. All I can think of is the sound of the rain on the canopy, and everyone still smiling.